


Aquamarine

by Moldie_Feelings



Series: Colors [2]
Category: Danny Phantom, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Coping Mechanisms, Danny gets it in his mind he can be the number 1 therapy patient, Gen, Getting Hobbies, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It gets better then so much worse and then better again, Oh Also: Puns, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Recovery as non-linear, Suicidal Thoughts, TWs in Chapter Beginning Notes Just In Case, Therapy, which is not a good mindset to have and will definitely fuel some Stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moldie_Feelings/pseuds/Moldie_Feelings
Summary: Danny's life living in Wayne Manor and trying to move on from the less pleasant life he lived before.Includes a lot of therapy, a lot of coping mechanisms, and the search for a hobby or tow or more.Sequel to "Red". "Red" should be read first so the story makes sense.
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Alfred Pennyworth, Danny Fenton & Barbara Gordon, Danny Fenton & Bruce Wayne, Danny Fenton & Dick Grayson, Danny Fenton & Tucker Foley & Sam Manson
Series: Colors [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119482
Comments: 34
Kudos: 101





	1. In Need of an Actual Hobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to the sequel for "Red," "Aquamarine!"  
> I was thinking about naming it "Blue," but when I found out about that other fic also called Red and it also has a sequel named Blue, I didn't want to look like a copycat.  
> Besides, it adds to the important of the aquamarine as a grounding technique, so yeah.  
> .  
> This story will be Danny trying his hardest to cope and the ups and downs of such an endeavor.  
> :)  
> Enjoy.

Danny took in a deep breath between sips of the smoothie Alfred made for him, thinking about how his therapy session had gone. Despite Canary’s reassurance that he hadn’t done anything wrong, the perceived failure hung on his shoulders like a heavy weight.

_“Do you have any hobbies?”_

_Danny’s gaze snapped to his therapist. He felt himself stiffen. “Hobbies?”_

_“Yes, hobbies. Something fun that entertains or distracts you.” Canary flipped through her notes while she spoke. “Whilst your commitment to using your healthy coping mechanisms is amazing, you should also give yourself time to just be. Do you have any hobbies or anything you think can develop into a hobby?”_

_Danny furrowed his eyebrows as he thought. He spent his days going so school, doing homework, trying to not let the past consume him and going to appointments. Outside of talking with friends and family during meals and the occasional movie night, he didn’t do anything._

_Well, he listened to music, but that was usually to stave off nervousness._

_He had no hobbies. This was bad. Canary would tell Bruce he was failing therapy and—_

_He was catastrophizing. He had time to develop a hobby. Or more than one hobby. He would become the best at having interests outside of ‘coping’._

_“I-I don’t have any hobbies I can think of, sorry.”_

_Canary wrote something down when he finished speaking. Wrong answer? Definitely the wrong answer._

_“That’s okay, Danny. Can you think of subjects or activities that interest you?” She gave him a smile that radiated patience. “If you need paper and a pencil I could give those to you so you can list down what you like to do.”_

The paper rested as a folded mess in his pants pocket. He wanted to think that maybe at least one of those options would pan out. He finished the smoothie and thanked Alfred before disappearing off to his room and reviewing his homework. He had taken Dick’s suggestion to do his homework, or at least most of it, before sessions to avoid the exhaustion interfering with his ability to keep his grades up.

Turns out that without three in the morning misadventures or the constant stress of fighting to have any sort of autonomy, he was perfectly capable of keeping up with the curriculum and even had the pleasure of seeing his report card spell ABAAAB from time to time.

After making sure he hadn’t forgotten to carry over any ones on his math worksheet and writing down the definitions to the words in his English assignment he didn’t understand, Danny laid out the list he had written during his session. He then took out a pencil to underline the ones that most interested him.

_Drawing  
Coloring  
Writing  
Cooking  
Baking  
Gardening  
Boxing  
Running  
Reading  
Movies  
TV Shows  
Puzzles  
Crosswords  
Astronomy  
LEGO  
Magic tricks  
Origami  
Photos  
Rubik’s Cube  
Video games?  
Collecting stuff  
Music  
Wikipedia deep dives  
Trivia_

He scratched off hobbies that would cause a lot of clutter. Sure, Bruce and Alfred had told him there was plenty of space in the Manor and that there was no problem with him taking more space for things (after a particularly low moment when he’d been caught doing his homework in the corner on the floor), but he didn’t want to be a bother anyway.

So that removed LEGO, origami (he scratched off Canary’s suggestion with some guilt), puzzles, and collecting things.

He tapped the pencil against the paper while wondering if he should scratch off any hobbies that required extra stuff (photos, Rubik’s cube, gardening, video games, and boxing) when he heard the knock at his door. He shoved the paper in his pocket again and hid the pencil in a panic.

“Yes?”

Dick leaned in past the doorway, hiding something behind his back.

_Was he hurt did he get hurt why is he hiding his hands? Did my biting rub off on him? Oh no—_

“Hey, so I’m kind of worried about you?” Dick’s voice lilted up at the end like it was a question rather than a statement. Danny’s heart hammered in his chest. “When you’re not doing homework you’re just staring at the wall and, well, getting lost in your thoughts that often can’t be nice.” Dick walked inside, aiming for a casual stroll but in the end his gait was more of an overexaggerated march. Danny instantly rubbed the bracelet on his wrist to give him some solace. Dick noticed the nervous behavior and walked normally the rest of the way to the bed. “So, I was looking around my room to see if there was anything I could do to help and remembered I have this. I had it in middle school but couldn’t really play as much with the Team starting up and then I lost interest.”

Dick placed the object unceremoniously onto the mattress. Danny had to look at it for a few second to really know what it was. Then, he cocked his head.

“Is that a DS?”

Sure enough, he recognized the device from Dash’s shoving it in his face before mocking him for not having one. And from Tucker’s long summer days in middle school of _stroking_ the magazine advertisements and saying, ‘isn’t she beautiful, Danny?’ while having a lovestruck look to him, as if the DS was a popular girl at school and not an electronic device.

He ought to send Tucker an email or text and ask him how he’s doing.

 _Focus_.

The DS was cobalt and slightly worn. The charger was slightly tangled and the cartridge holder was closed, but Danny could faintly see the outline of the games. Danny looked at Dick, who for once seemed unsure of himself.

“I’m not giving you this because I’m making a habit of giving you my garbage,” Dick clarified, taking the silence as offense on Danny’s part.

“I didn’t think so, I’m just… I haven’t seen one of these in ages. I’ve never had one.”

When he’d first wanted one his parents couldn’t afford it, and by the time they could they’d deemed him too old for such things.

Yet here it was. Right in front of him.

“So, what games are you giving me?”

Dick smiled, relieved.

“Well, I threw away _English Training_ because I don’t think you need it and also if I hear the theme song even one more time I might lose it.” Dick’s eyes darkened at the sheer thought. Then, he relaxed his shoulders and picked up the cartridge holder. “Bruce doesn’t like violent games because we literally live in Gotham City, so the games I have don’t have violence. Um, let me see this again,” he snapped open the holder and skimmed the titles, “we have _Animal Crossing: Wild World_ \- I reset everything so you won’t have to see the mud tracks I left by running everywhere. There’s also _Cooking Mama_ , which made cooking look easy until I actually tried to help Alfred cook.”

“Is that why you’re banned from the kitchen?” Danny asked.

“No, that would be the microwave-egg incident.”

“You what?”

“I didn’t want to boil water so I just put the egg in the microwave and it exploded.”

“ _Eggs_ -ploded.”

“Not whelmed you did that,” Dick said. He scrunched up his nose at the pun. Danny simply gave an innocent smile. “Anyway, I wanted a Tony Hawk game but Bruce got me _Shrek Smash N’ Crash Racing_ instead. Walls made fun of me because it wasn’t even the actual Mario Kart game but I actually like this game better. Besides, he can’t talk. He likes _Nintendogs_.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Danny said.

“Lucky you. He would not shut up about his virtual dog for months.” Dick snorted to himself and then closed the cartridge holder and passed it to Danny, who held it gingerly. “Anyway, if you don’t want them that’s okay.”

Danny thought about his hobby list and shook his head while holding the case closer to himself. “No, this is great, thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. I already charged it for you and put it back to factory settings, so it’s all yours. With that all done, can you help me with the English assignment?”

“You have a higher grade than me in English.”

“Yeah but still, poetry is my weak spot. What even is a sonnet?”

“Uh…” Danny opened his backpack and scrambled to find his notes. “Here, sit with me. We can review together.”

_I have one hobby now, can’t wait to tell Canary._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to look up all the games on the Nintendo DS on Wikipedia for the sake of accuracy and having games that actually exist show up and uh, yeah.  
> Here are some titles that didn't make it for any reason:  
> Personal Trainer: Math  
> Silly Bandz (Angry Birds but worse)  
> I thought about adding Pokémon but I don't know...  
> .  
> Anyway, the song Dick hates is "Peter Piper Syndrome," the title theme for English Training.  
> It's extra funny because one of the characters(?) in the game is called Barbara.  
> I'd imagine Bruce got it to help his son learn English in a fun way and tracked the release from Europe to make sure they'd get it.  
> However, Bruce is allergic to actually asking people what they like and did not think that maybe... your son wouldn't want English Training for the DS.  
> .  
> Sorry about the Nintendogs hate, I personally think it's cute!


	2. Hobby Champion 2010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I got too ambitious when I told myself each chapter would have a title. I'm not fantastic at titles.  
> But I already made the commitment, so let's hope I eventually get the hang of it.

_ Hobby list:  
_ _Video Games  
Movies  
Astronomy  
Music_

Danny gave a contented sigh as he finished his list, proud of have several hobbies.

He could probably have one or two more if he tried, but so far four hobbies seemed like a balanced amount.

He’d look up astronomy things when he felt like it, he listened to music, watched movies on weekends sometimes, and checked on _Wild World_ almost every day to check on his villagers and pick weeds and water flowers. Dick had told him to talk to Sable every day, so he’d been doing that as well.

She had seemed closed off and busy, but Dick had explained she just needed time to trust the player.

He’d said it like it was a meaningful statement about more than just a hedgehog who works at a sewing machine.

Danny made sure his DS was in his bedside drawer before reviewing his list again. After looking at it longer, the list felt short. He needed more hobbies. He did tell himself he would be the best at hobbies, and only four? That was a small number.

He looked at his first list where he had brainstormed.

He could try to ask Alfred if he needed help making dinner once in a while. Even though being a Fenton meant his cooking was lackluster, he did enjoy the actual process. And maybe he could add more things to the list.

_Cooking/baking  
Stargazing?_

Was that too similar to astronomy? No, right? He sighed to himself.

He should probably ask now. Alfred always started cooking a little early. Yeah. He padded out of his room and made his way to the kitchen where Alfred was tying on an apron. He knocked on the doorway and the elderly butler turned to face him.

“Master Danny, are you hungry?”

Danny shook his head. He opened his mouth and closed it again, frowning. He didn’t want to insult the man by implying he wasn’t capable of cooking.

“Oh, do you wish to assist me?”

Nod.

This was something Danny appreciated about Alfred: if Danny didn’t talk, Alfred would still somehow understand.

( _Unlike him and his “spit it out, Daniel”_ )

Alfred offered him an apron and Danny put it on, tying it a little sloppily.

He had lost a little of his motor control after all that time of not being able to control his own actions. Not that’d he’d tell anyone. The entire experience was embarrassing enough as it was without the whispers of _really an invalid_ clouding his thoughts. He bit his lip hard to distract himself and pointed at the kitchen counter where the ingredients were.

“Can you pass me the spices as I ask for them?”

Nod.

Salt, black pepper, thyme, oregano, paprika, a lime, garlic, and vinegar.

Alfred doused a baking tray with olive oil before placing the slices of fish (corvina, Alfred had said) on it and shoving the tray in a very hot oven. The silence wasn’t heavy or stifling (or staticky) and Danny found it quite relaxing. Alfred hummed to himself as he made some rice.

Hm. Danny recognized that song. He also recognized the singer, courtesy of his mother playing the same tapes over and over when she made blueprints.

Alfred was humming— that was _definitely_ —

“Madonna?”

Alfred barely glanced at him, but Danny caught the smile.

“Yes, Madonna. Keep this our little secret. Master Dick will surely find it reason to jest.”

“Sure, I won’t say anything.”

If he had managed to keep Tucker’s love of Backstreet Boys a secret, Alfred’s humming of Madonna could also be kept under wraps.

“Pass me the oregano again, please.”

“Okay.”

∞∞∞

As Danny held the plates so Alfred could serve, he worked up the courage to ask.

“Can I help you in the kitchen every once in a while? Is once a week too much?”

“You can help as often as you like. I enjoy the company of an assistant.” Alfred’s eyes shone with happiness. “Master Dick used to try to help, but he had to be permanently removed from cooking after an incident with eggs.”

“Microwave?” Alfred nodded and scooped up some rice to put on the plate Danny held. Danny put it on the counter and picked up an empty plate. “He told me about that. I thought he was joking.”

“I can assure you, as the one to had to help him clean the microwave, that he was not joking.” Despite the words, Alfred’s tone held no heat to them. He seemed almost fond of the memory of the disaster.

“I’ll try not to explode any eggs,” Danny said. The last of the rice was scooped onto the plate and then Alfred took out the fish. It had an outer shell of golden brown and smelled great.

He really liked being able to use all his senses to their full potential.

Danny smiled to himself as he ate dinner with his family, listening to the idle chatter about everyone’s day.

“How about you, Danny?” Bruce asked in between bites of rice. “Anything interesting happen today?”

“I helped Alfred with dinner,” Danny replied. Bruce’s eyebrows shot up.

“Really? Wow, that’s great.”

“Master Danny is a great help.”

Dick gave Alfred a self-pitying look. “How come he’s allowed in the kitchen and I’m not? I can make a great cereal and milk.”

“I also don’t make eggs-plosions in an expensive kitchen.”

Bruce hid a laugh behind his hand, but everyone heard it anyway.

“He has a point, Dick,” Bruce said.

“This is like the Ides of March.” Dick pouted and put his elbows on the table, disregarding the disapproval radiating off of Alfred at the action. “Everyone I know suddenly banding against me.”

“Well,” Danny said, softening. “Maybe you could watch Alfred cook from a safe distance and learn a little. After all, you need to be able to cook for yourself one day.”

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Only if Alfred’s okay with it.”

Alfred’s smile was warm.

“It sounds like a wonderful idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My boy is happy and safe and secure enough to make the same pun twice. :)  
> Also, I do think Dick being a disaster in the kitchen is funny but he needs to learn the life skill at some point and what better time than when Alfred can teach him? Not to mention, the drama... the suspense... the comedy of Dick Grayson trying to play 6 dimensional chess with an omelet...  
> .  
> See you around!


	3. What-Ifs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Danny has an emotional flashback and a subsequent panic attack.

Danny’s eyes flitted about the walls of the room as he spoke. Despite the energy begging for release, other than his gaze not staying in any one particular place he sat still.

“So we originally had Dick on passing tools duty while he watched Alfred cook but he tried to do a flashy trick with the food scissors, so after that Alfred, just has him sit on a stool in the corner and just watch.” Danny set his eyes on Canary’s amused expression for a second before opting to stare at different points of the wall instead.

“So your cooking hobby is going okay?” Canary asked.

“Yeah. I also do a bunch of other stuff. I have a lot of hobbies now.”

“That’s good to hear. Which one’s your favorite?”

“Uh… I still like astronomy more than anything. Bruce got me a poster with a star chart on it and I like to look at it sometimes.” He focused on the strange pattern of the carpet. “There’s a lot of smog and light pollution in Gotham so stargazing isn’t a thing I really get to do.”

“How is reconnecting with your friends going?”

“It’s okay. We Skype on Fridays.”

“Do you look forward to it?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Danny twisted his hands painfully while thinking about what else to say. “I’ve been a little more nervous than usual lately.”

“Can you pinpoint what’s making your nervous?”

Danny frowned to himself. “Not really.”

“That’s okay. We can work on managing the feeling while we look for the cause.”

“Yeah.” Danny took a deep breath. “Yeah, we can do that.”

∞∞∞

Danny set aside his finished homework and opened his laptop. He logged into his email and stared at the screen. He had a (1) next to his inbox.

_From: Sam (ultrarecyclosam@yahoo.com)  
Hey!  
Hey Danny! Just emailing to make sure you’re okay. You didn’t look too well last Skype chat. Just tell me the name and I’ll beat them up. Feel free to call me whenever!_

That was… surprisingly sweet.

~~He ignored the fact she couldn’t just beat up the problem this time.~~

_To: Sam (ultrarecyclosam@yahoo.com)_  
RE: Hey!  
Hey Sam, I’m okay. Just been a little tired. Thanks for checking up on me. :-)

Danny closed his laptop and glanced at his cellphone. Maybe he should call her. Maybe he should wait, though. He didn’t remember the exact time she practiced boxing, but it was around this time. He reached into his bedside drawer and took out his DS to play a round or two of _Shrek Smash N’ Crash Racing_. Dick was right, it was surprisingly fun even though it was painfully easy for the characters to bump into the walls instead of rounding curves gracefully. After finally getting his character to finish a race in third, Danny closed the game and put it away. He checked his email again (no new email from Sam) before shutting down his laptop and putting it on his desk. He checked over his homework before placing it in his backpack.

Danny picked up the cellphone and dialed Sam’s number.

She answered after the fifth ring.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

“I’m guessing you got my email?”

“Yeah. I emailed you back, too.”

Sam’s voice dropped as she spoke, aiming for low tones. Was she worried someone would eavesdrop on her?

“Do I need to check my email?”

“Not really. It was just to answer you. I’ll answer again here: I’m okay. I’ve just been tired.”

Sam chuckled to herself.

“Yeah, I get that.”

He frowned.

“Rich parents are overbearing, right? How many extracurriculars did Wayne sign you up for?”

Danny felt his heart speed up a little.

“No, Bruce is— Bruce is fine. I’m not in any extracurriculars.”

“Huh,” she breathed. “The other kid is in like twenty.”

“No, Dick is only in the math club. He does gymnastics outside of school.” And vigilantism, but that was a family secret. He trusted Sam, but it wasn’t his secret to share. “Do—” Danny swallowed thickly— “Do your parents force you to do stuff?”

“You don’t remember? Back in elementary and middle school I was in like, ten different things. Tennis, gymnastics, etiquette, art, violin, the whole set. It was exhausting.” Sam shuddered, a sound he heard over the phone. “And I’d have to wear these expensive, stuffy pink and white clothes all the time. And then I got you to get your parents to take us to the mall and I bought myself a bunch of clothes I didn’t hate and some quick clothing dye. I still feel sick when I see too much pink in any one place I don’t expect it. Tucker thinks it’s a little funny. I don’t find it _that_ funny, but it’s whatever.” Her tone held little malice despite the annoyance underneath her words.

Danny’s fingers were numb. He nodded into the phone.

“So, Wayne is good?”

“Y-yeah.”

He hadn’t noticed how miserable she was back then. His chest felt tight. What if- what if they- what if she—?

“Danny? You still there?”

“I’m here.” He covered the receiver to clear his throat. “Um, about- your parents.” Was the room always so small and so large at the same time? He felt like he was in an abyss; the air pressed against him as if it was trying to crush him.

“They’re doing okay,” Sam replied. “Well, Mom bought the wrong shade of lipstick and she’s really upset about it even though no one can tell the difference between her usual and the one she’s using right now, but she’ll be fine.”

A low whine died on the back of his throat.

“I hope she feels better soon,” he mumbled instead.

“You don’t sound too good,” Sam said. “Are you coming down with something?”

“You’re okay, right?” he asked. He desperately needed to know she was okay. She made a confused hum.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You’re acting a little strange. Are _you_ okay?”

_~~No.~~ _

“I’m fine.” Danny’s vision felt blurry. He focused on a dark corner of the room and watched the shadows move.

Sam sighed. “If you say so. Still, maybe you should take it easy. We can hang up if you want.”

_~~Don’t go, not without knowing she’s okay.~~ _

_~~Just ask her, coward!~~ _

“See you on Friday.”

“See you. Rest up, okay? You sound like you need it.”

The line cut off. Danny took a breath. Then another. And another.

It wasn’t enough. There just wasn’t enough air in the room. He stumbled over to the window and fumbled with the latch; clumsy shaking fingers unable to grasp anything. He took another wheezing breath and another. The window _clicked_ open and Danny yanked it open. He breathed in the outside air. He was sobbing.

He poked his face out a little and made a pitiful noise and took another breath.

_I’m okay I’m okay I’m okay_

_~~But what if she isn’t and you can’t help her?~~ _

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to calm down, but by the time his choked wheezing became shuddering breaths he was leaning on the windowsill. He stared at the sky. The gray clouds that seemed to be a staple of Gotham were thinned out today, letting the sky show through, but not the sun. He took a deep, calming breath and closed the window. He didn’t fumble with the latch this time and was able to lock it with no problem. He drew the curtains slightly so that a little of the dimming sunlight would shine through, but not too much. He stepped away slowly until his back was to a wall and slid down to the floor.

Danny sat with the dark, looming shadows of his room and sighed to himself.

He was not looking forward to telling anyone about this.


	4. A Weight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "not looking forward to talking about this" said Danny... but he's also in a fic that's primarily about talking about things.  
> Bruce is a Good Dad in this one.  
> Chapter warnings: the beginnings of rising anxiety. But then coping skills are used, so it doesn't spiral all the way. Mentions of severe abuse and trauma.

Danny was exhausted. He’d barely been able to stomach dinner after the phone call. He hoped no one had noticed, although it was unlikely.

It’s hard to _not_ notice when someone shoves their plate away and just up and leaves the table.

He was in pajamas now, sitting in a corner of his room and… watching. For everything. For nothing in particular. For suspicious sounds and movement. For suspicious quiet and stillness.

He had seen Canary just earlier today. The session had gone well. He should be fine. He should space out these kinds of things. What if it looked like he wasn’t trying hard enough or getting better? Danny rubbed his eyes to ebb away the burning of unshed tears.

Someone knocked on the door. His tongue settled on the bottom on his mouth and refused to move or make a sound.

After a few seconds, the door opened. Bruce stood at the doorway. The light from the hallway made his shadow look darker, taller, and terrifying. Danny scuttled further into the corner, freezing when his back met the wall. He had nowhere to go.

Bruce turned on a lamp and sat on the floor as well from a distance. A lot less threatening. Danny’s trembling became less pronounced. When had he started shaking, anyway?

“Did something happen today?” Bruce asked.

Danny averted his gaze.

His wrist itched. He felt tempted to bite it.

He rubbed it soothingly instead.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He tried again.

“This morning, I had some toast and come coffee for breakfast. What did you have for breakfast?”

Danny blinked. He could answer that.

“Alfred made a fruit salad this morning and gave me some.”

Bruce nodded.

“After breakfast, I went to work. How about you?”

“I went to school.”

“How was school?”

“It was okay. We did a class review in math.”

Danny’s chest no longer constricted horribly.

“How about after school?”

“I had my therapy session. Canary showed me a worksheet.”

_“When you’re nervous, what do you typically feel or think about?”_

_Danny poked and prodded at the skin of his forearm._

_“I feel… like there’s too much happening and I can’t do anything about it. My heart beats really loud and it feels like I can’t breathe. Sometimes, I get so nervous I can’t even see or hear. It’s just all noise.”_

_“Would you say being nervous makes it easy for you to get overwhelmed?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“What do you think about when you’re nervous?”_

_“My thoughts go really fast and it’s like I can’t think and I’m just… feelings. Too many feelings and I can’t pinpoint anything, and then I really can’t think because it’s too loud and that makes it worse.”_

_“Hm.” Canary slowly stood up and made her way to a filing cabinet in the corner of the room. She pulled out a folder and flipped through the pages. Each turn of the paper was fast, causing a sharp whooshing sound. She took out a few papers and closed the folder. “Maybe, when your mind goes too fast, you could try to focus on something else until it slows down a little.” She passed him a crumbled worksheet. It was written in large, bubbly text and had a lot of boxes to separate the categories. Danny skimmed over the letters until he found one that seemed doable._

_“Describe all the steps in an activity you know well,” Danny read aloud. “I could- I could try that.”_

_“Would you like to try it now while you’re calm?”_

_“Yeah, I can try.”_

“And um, then we used the worksheet to practice so I can calm down when I’m nervous.” Danny noticed his situation. “It’s, um. I still need to work on it.”

“Okay,” Bruce said. All patience, no underlying sharpness. “I take it your session went well?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened after that?”

“Alfred usually makes a smoothie afterwards to energize me a little bit. I had that, and then I finished my homework.”

“Did you have any trouble with your homework?”

“No, it wasn’t that hard. I checked my email and my friend Sam asked if I was okay and that I could call her whenever I wanted to.”

Danny gripped the edge of his sleeve and rubbed it between his fingers.

“I did call her. She sounded okay. She was, uh.”

_How do I say it without hurting his feelings?_

“She talked about how,” Danny averted his gaze, “how typically rich parents tend to have a lot of expectations. I had mentioned I was tired, and she assumed it had something to do with ‘all the extracurriculars’ she thought I had.”

_Had that really been it? That was a stupid reason to panic._

“Uh… I said Dick and I were fine and that you don’t pressure us like that, and she started talking about how her parents had her in a lot of activities when she was younger and how tiring it was.”

_That was the tipping point._

“I got worried about her.”

_All she did was talk about her life._

“I asked her if she was okay, because- because…”

_It was so stupid. Sam is fine._

His throat felt tight.

“I-I-I… I just…”

His eyes burned.

His heart was louder than the sound of his strained breathing.

“It’s okay,” Bruce said. “Take your time. Easy. Breathe in, just like that. Hold it… breathe out. Good. Again. In…”

They continued for a while. Danny’s voice felt like it was tangled in something.

“You were scared for your friend,” Bruce said, trying to understand Danny’s perspective. “When you heard she had do to a lot of activities she didn’t really like because her parents signed her up for them.”

“She still gets nauseous around the color pink,” Danny muttered out. He wasn’t sure if he made sense. His words felt thick and hard to pronounce.

“Okay,” Bruce said, piecing it together. “So, the thought of someone you care for feeling hurt and tired because of someone who is supposed to look after them made you feel scared for her.”

 _Well, when Bruce said it like_ that _he didn’t sound like an emotional idiot._

“She said she was fine, but I just kept getting more worked up because she if she wasn’t fine? What if they- _hurt_ her?” Bruce was quiet for a moment, considering his words.

“Danny, would you be okay if I hugged you?”

Danny thought it over.

“That’d be okay.”

Bruce made his way over and sat next to Danny before pulling him into a hug. Danny relaxed into it after a few seconds, feeling the last bit of tension escape him.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like for you,” Bruce began. “You’ve been hurt very badly by someone who was supposed to take care of you.”

Danny shivered.

“And you’re worried about the people you love getting hurt, too.”

“Y-yeah.”

It didn’t sound so stupid now.

“You carry the heavy weight of what you’ve been through almost every day. All by yourself, too. But you don’t have to, okay? We all want to help you. Sam asked if you were okay, right?”

Nod.

“ _Are_ you okay?”

Danny thought to himself.

Without the knots of anxiety choking him, he realized he was hungry. And thirsty. And tired. All in that order.

“I will be,” Danny answered. “I should probably eat dinner now. Being hungry never helps anything.” That was a step.

“I’ll ask Alfred to heat something up for you. Do you want to go with me?”

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being hungry never helps someone's emotional state. Try nibbling on some crackers if you can when you feel awful and haven't eaten in a while. Settled stomach settled mind.  
> .  
> Writing Bruce's dialogue at the end was like... necessary but also made me frown because like. I don't know how common this is but when teachers notice a student who's really struggling sometimes they do that whole talk like "oh you have this weight on your shoulders and I can tell it's taking a toll on you. Also I'm a mandatory reporter so.... you can and should tell me anything :)" and after the... I lost count throughout the years, point is it gets very paranoia inducing very quickly after someone calls security on you for crying too hard.  
> I'm fine now. The benefits of college are dead inside professors and a lack of mandatory reporting practices.  
> .  
> Well see you all next chapter. I will probably drink some tea after posting this.


	5. Between Here and Nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: anxiety, unintentional self-injury  
> A little short, but I hope it's an easy and enjoyable read regardless.

Danny couldn’t sleep. Even with food and water and a weight off his chest, he just— couldn’t sleep. He had tried for about an hour, but the shadows in the room felt suspicious to his nervous mind. And turning on a lamp was out of the question: for one, he couldn’t sleep with a light on. Heightened senses meant the light bothered him.

And two, someone could see the light and see he was awake and…

Danny rubbed his eyes in the dark. And _what_ , exactly? Break in? This was Wayne Manor. Yell at him? Unlikely. He’d done worse with no yelling or hitting or- or anything else.

 _( ~~Imagine if he’d run out of the dining area during dinner back~~_ ~~then _. He wouldn’t even be able to think._~~ )

Danny forced himself to relax his jaw and shoulders. There was no use to… what was the word Canary used. Ruminating? He should stop ruminating. Right now. And maybe go to sleep, like he was supposed to.

Or at least lay down with his eyes closed.

But if he laid down—

_“Rather than a worst case scenario, try imagining the best case scenario,” Canary recommended. “For example, if you had to do a presentation. What are the worst and best things that could happen?”_

_“Worst: I look stupid in front of a bunch of people. Best… it goes fine and I get an A?”_

_“The best case scenario sounds more likely, right? Or something in the middle.”_

Okay, if he laid down and closed his eyes:

Worst case: nebulous danger.

Best case: going to sleep.

Most likely: dozing off fitfully after a few hours.

Even with the comforting evidence of “will probably fall asleep eventually,” Danny couldn’t bring himself to lay down and close his eyes. He frowned at the sheets before an idea came to him.

Danny fluffed up his pillows and laid back. There— he was sitting up, somewhat, and he’d be able to fall asleep. If he woke up, he’d be able to see his surroundings. With just that, some of the anxiety left his body and he managed to close his eyes.

He woke up and it was still dark outside. No nightmare had rattled him. Apparently, his sleep just had a time limit today. Okay, that was fine. He was fully awake and alert, so… he could start his day early.

After showering, washing his face, brushing his teeth, and getting dressed for school, Danny had nothing to do but sit around and wait. There wasn’t a rule against getting up early, but… he didn’t want to. Something made his heart race when he even thought about opening his door so early. So instead, Danny made his bed and reviewed his homework. He pressed his fingers against his bracelet until the stone’s surface was not as cold as it was before. He kept the light off even though he knew _someone_ probably knew he was awake. Pipes aren’t quiet, especially in a place as old as Wayne Manor.

It made him a little nervous.

Not that he had any reason to be.

He wished he could stop being so nervous all the time.

Oh well.

Soon enough, it was time for breakfast, and Danny half-mindedly picked at his food and rubbed his eyes when no one was looking. He wasn’t exactly _tired_ but his vision was bleary in that ‘I need sleep’ way.

“Are you quite alright, Master Danny?”

Danny jolted. He locked eyes with Alfred.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” Danny rubbed his eyes again and pushed his breakfast away. It was only half-eaten, but something in his gut told him he wouldn’t be able to stomach another bite. “Let me get my stuff.” Danny walked away from the table and headed back to his room to grab his belongings. He then sat on the bottom step of the main staircase and bore his gaze into the wall of the foyer. His wrist found its way to his mouth and he bit on it absently.

A sharp taste filled Danny’s mouth and he recoiled. He held his hand away from his mouth and looked at the blood smearing on his wrist.

_I’m more out of it than I thought. How am I going to explain this?_

Danny continued staring at his wrist as panic filled his chest. The skin around the bite was already bruising slightly, which was not ideal.

“Woah, are you okay?”

Danny flinched and turned to face Dick, who was looking at his arm with concern.

“Let me get Alfred to help you. Well… actually, we could go to Alfred together. Yeah. Come with me.”

Danny stood up and watched the blood drip slightly. He held his other hand under his wrist to prevent dripping. Vlad always hated it when Danny’s blood got on things because of the stains.

Danny clenched his jaw and pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

He felt a little embarrassed, sitting across from Alfred as the man tended to Danny’s self-inflicted bite wound (again). The only difference was that Danny had not been panicking but just distracted when he bit himself, and that was… kind of sad to think about.

Well, the second difference was the fact that it was a school morning.

“Oh,” Danny muttered to himself. “We’ll be late to school because of this.”

Alfred tacked on a plaster on Danny’s wrist.

“Master Danny,” Alfred said as he closed the first aid kit, “are you sure you should go to school today? You are clearly in a heightened sate of distress.”

Danny poked the plaster and held back a wince as the pain of the bite made itself known.

“I can share my notes with you after school,” Dick suggested. “You won’t miss out on much.”

_Has he been here the entire time?_

“I’ve already missed a few days, though,” Danny argued weakly.

“For good reasons, too,” Dick pointed out. “Like today.”

Danny didn’t find the energy to argue. He rubbed his face tiredly. “I could probably use a nap, anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short and somewhat pointless chapter. Focusing has been hard lately, so I thought getting at least this part done would be better than a half-finished draft sitting in my computer for Longer That Necessary.  
> Also, I've just realized that Danny's life would be easier if he had some kind of stuffed animal. I say this while holding a stuffed animal, and while knowing that I will not give Danny a stuffed animal in this story even though I have the power to do so.  
> (It'd be cute though. He'd probably give it some delightfully plain name like "Bear" because he's bad at names.)  
> See you all in the next chapter. :)


End file.
